


An Unexpected Home - A Lucaya Fic

by GirlMeetsMe12



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-23 01:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6099724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlMeetsMe12/pseuds/GirlMeetsMe12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Struggling artist Maya Hart moves into Lucas Friar's apartment much to his dismay. Can they learn to live together, and maybe even love?<br/>Yes, the summary is lame, but my story is not. I think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

_Rap rap rap! Rap rap rap!_

            I groggily lifted my head, awoken by the noise.

            _Rap rap rap!_

            At 3 in the morning, a loud banging at my door seemed kind of concerning. I quickly slid out of bed, now feeling wide awake, and headed to my closet where a baseball bat was lying. I carefully made my way through the living room, on my way to the door, and there was the loud knocking again.

            _Rap rap rap!_

            With the baseball bat in my hand, I cautiously yelled out, “Who’s there?”

            I waited a moment in silence, holding my breath, when the reply came.

            “I could tell you, but it wouldn’t make any difference.”

            It was a female voice. Whoever she was, I didn’t think she sounded dangerous, so I slowly opened the door.

            The girl walked right in, luggage in hand and set down her things in the living room with a sigh. Then, eyeing the bat in my hand she said mockingly, “Were you planning to use that on little old me?”

            Still too confused to reply, I shut the door behind her, and took in her appearance. Long, wavy, blonde hair, blue eyes, early twenties, a ratty jacket and a much worn in pair of boots. She looked tired, as if she hadn’t gotten much sleep in the past couple days, but a playful smile was still spread across her lips.

            “Anyways,” she said, unzipping one of her bags and pulling out something in a frame, “I believe this is yours.” She handed me the frame and I instantly recognized the painting within it.

            “I’ll even sign it, just for you,” she winked.

            “Wait, so you’re Maya Hart?” I said shocked, and still confused.

            “In the flesh,” she motioned to herself.

            I was instantly brought back to a few days earlier.

***

            “And here we have our young artist spotlight painting of the month,” the guide gestured to the painting presented before us. It was a beautiful night time scene; a moon glowed in the dark sky on a little town, the dark sky dotted with perfect little stars.

            “Who’s the artist?” I immediately asked.

            “Let’s see,” The man slid his glasses down his nose as he scanned the paper in his hand. “Maya Hart. 23 years old, New York, New York.”

            Drawn in by the painting, I moved to get a closer look and asked, “How much?”

            It was strange, how intrigued I was by the painting; I wasn’t much into art, and I had only come to the gallery simply because I wanted to get out of the house and couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.

            “That would be $100.”

            I turned to look at the guide, baffled. I had never bought art before, but I was sure a piece this beautiful should’ve been worth a lot more. Nonetheless, I told the guide I would take it, and he assured me that if I left an address, they’d deliver it in the next few days. I had no idea the artist herself would be the one to show up at my door.

***

            “Um well, hi then,” I said taking a seat on the couch. Maya sat down beside me, casually as if it was her own place and it wasn’t 3 o clock in the morning.

            “Hey, Ranger Rick,” she smiled.

            “Ranger Rick?”

            “Well you see,” she explained, “I saw your name – Lucas Friar – and I immediately thought ‘Hey! He’s some kind of southern cowboy!’ and so Ranger Rick didn’t seem so far off.”

            “Ranger Rick?”

            “Are you not a cowboy?” Maya questioned.

            “I, I mean, I’m from Texas –”

            “Ranger Rick,” she nodded.

            I sighed, totally bewildered by everything that was going on.

            “So uh, do you think you could maybe tell me what you’re doing here? At my apartment? _At 3 in the morning?_ ” I said, exasperated.

            “Oh yeah, that!” She rearranged herself on the couch so she was facing directly towards me. “Here’s the thing, Huck,” _Huck? I thought,_ “It’s really a funny story. So I had my own apartment, and I was living on my own and doing art, and everything was great. But see the thing is, being an artist isn’t the best way of making money. And when you have no money, you kind of need some money. So I kept telling the landlord I would pay the rent later, with interest, but I never could so he kicked me out,” She finished, giving me a look that said _what can ya do?_

“He kicked you out at 3 in the morning?” I questioned doubtfully.

            “Weeeeell technically I was supposed to leave yesterday, but I didn’t, and he found out I was still there, like, forty minutes ago, and he threatened to call the police...so having this painting and your address, I packed up, and headed over here. Surprise!” She threw her arms out and gave me an apologetic smile.

            I stared hard at the ground, trying to wrap my head around everything she had just said, and thinking of what I should possibly do in that situation.

“I don’t even know you,” I said slowly.

She sighed and closed her eyes. “I get it. I’m a complete stranger, and this was a long shot. I’m sorry I bothered you.” She sounded defeated as she got to her feet and started to collect her bags.

I wanted to just let her walk out, I really did. I mean, how did I know she was who she said she was? How was letting a stranger stay in my apartment for who knows how long a good idea in any situation? But she looked so drained and tired and _cute_ , like a stray puppy. And just like the painting, there was something about her that I was drawn into, some kind of invisible force.

After a couple moments of mentally debating with myself, and Maya just about to leave, I sighed and said, “The couch is yours.”


	2. Part 2

I woke up to the sound of my alarm and looked at the time, although I knew what time it must be – 7:00. I groaned as I laid in bed; I hadn’t gotten much sleep. After the “blonde beauty” disrupted my sleep at 3am, and I made the impulsive decision of letting her stay, I lied awake for most of the night thinking about what I did, and what I was going to do.

            Finally forcing myself to get out of bed, I sluggishly made my way through the living room on my way to the kitchen, and found myself staring at Maya, sleeping peacefully on the couch. My footing became careful as I tried not to wake her – now a “ _sleeping_ blonde beauty”, until I questioned myself. Why should I care if I wake her up? It’s _my_ apartment. She was lucky I let her stay here at all after rudely barging in. In the end my internal debate didn’t matter because I heard a squelching on the couch and turned to see Maya slowly rising to her feet.

            “Hey,” was all I could think to say.

            “Morning,” she replied awkwardly.

            “Uh,” I shifted on my feet, “want any coffee?” I motioned to the coffee maker that I was now turning on. Why was I being so nice to her? Why couldn’t I stop being nice to her?

            “Yeah, actually,” she slid into a kitchen chair.

            I nodded and turned away, contemplating my next move. It certainly would not be the smartest idea to let her stay any longer in my apartment, especially while I was at work. Anyone could tell you it wasn’t a good idea to let a complete stranger stay the day in your apartment while you were gone. At the same time, it felt almost cruel to turn her away.

            “So, here’s the thing...” I started.

            “I get it, you want me to leave,” she stated.

            I bit my lip and slid her coffee across the table to where she sat. Okay. I needed to be assertive. I was going to be assertive about this.

            “Yes,” I tried saying as firmly as possible.

            She nodded a couple times, and then sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “Because I don’t know you, you don’t know me, and this is your apartment,” she continued.

            “Yes,” I repeated, leaning against the counter.

            “I get it,” she said again, nodding again.

            I gave a sigh of relief. She seemed to be taking this well. She would leave, and I wouldn’t have to deal with this crazy girl, and I could forget she ever walked through my door.

            “But Huck –”

            “Ahh,” I moaned. I knew it was too good to be true.

            “Just hear me out,” she raised her hands in front of her, pleading with me.

            With my head hanging low, I peered up at her through my eyelashes, and waited solemnly for her to continue. She smiled at my obvious surrender. What was it about this girl that I couldn’t say no to?

            “Let me stay for the day, I’ll make some phone calls, see where I can go, and by the time you get back I’ll be gone. It’ll be like I was never here,” She finished, seeming confident I’d say yes. And she had good reason.

            “Fine,” I snapped, dumping my coffee in frustration and heading back to my bedroom to get changed. I stopped midway to point a finger at the smug blonde and said, “You get one day. One, got it?”

            “Got it, Ranger,” she saluted to me.

            I hastily walked away for fear I would do something I’d regret.

***

            The day went my slower than normal. The auto shop that I worked at repairing vehicles was unusually quiet, and the only noise was that of the thoughts in my head. The thoughts about _her_. I thought about her dumb nicknames and that smug smile she had when I let her stay. Why did I let her stay? I didn’t like her at all. She came out of nowhere, I let her stay the night, and she still had the _nerve_ to ask if she could stay the rest of the day. I didn’t like her at all. But as the day went on, I worried that I was wrong. As much as I tried to deny it, there was a part of me that found her amusing and adorable, rather than rude and annoying.

            Once the day closed, I packed up my things and caught the subway back to my apartment. Whatever I thought of her didn’t matter now; she’d be gone by then, and I’d likely never see her again. I opened up the door, feeling mixed emotions and was confused by the smell of food. I walked further into the room and saw her, standing by the kitchen table, with a guilty smile on her face.

            I continued to walk in, and sat at the table, a plate of pancakes in front of me.

            “I made dinner,” she cautiously proceeded, and then sat across from me. Then quietly, “Pancakes are all I really know how to make.”

            I didn’t say a word, but began to cut the food into smaller pieces, and took a bite of the already buttered and syruped pancake. I had to admit – they were good pancakes. It may have been all she knew how to cook, but she knew how to cook them well. We sat at the table in silence as we ate the pancakes, not daring to look at each other. As I finished, I pushed the plate away from me at last we made eye contact.

            “You’re still here,” I stated the obvious.

            This time, she stole my line. “Yes.”

            “Things didn’t work out today?”

            She bit her lip and shook her head.

            “Here’s what’s going to happen,” I said slowly. She looked at me like she knew exactly what was coming, that I was going to kick her out anyways. Except this time, she was wrong.

            “Tomorrow is Saturday, which means I’m not working. That means that you and I are going to sit at this table tomorrow, and discuss how you’re going to get a job, so you can save up enough money to get your own place again. And until then, you’re going to pay me what you can for rent. Got it?” I stared at her hard.

            The returning smile I got from her was so dazzling I was positive I had made the right decision. “Got it, Ranger.”


	3. Part 3

I sat at the kitchen table sipping my coffee while I waited for Maya to get dressed and presentable. It was Saturday morning, and the plan for today was to see what places were hiring, and get Maya a job so she could pay some rent, and then hopefully move out of my apartment soon.

            “Maya!” I yelled impatiently.

            “Huckleberry!” She yelled back from the washroom.

            I rolled my eyes and sighed, mildly irritated. It seemed like I wanted her to get a job more than she did. It seemed like she’d been in the bathroom for hours.

            Finally, she lazily strolled out of the bathroom, dressed in a blouse, skirt, and blazer. I was a bit surprised by the effort she put into wearing something professional looking – hopefully it would make a good impression on possible employers.

            “Sit,” I commanded, motioning with my head to the chair on my left.

            “Do you want me to beg too?” She mumbled sarcastically, but sat anyways.

            I ignored her and shifted my chair so I was facing her more straight-on.

            “Okay, so here’s the plan. We’ll stop in as many shops and stores as we can, ask if any of them are hiring, you’ll give them your best smile, manners, and your resume, and we’ll cross our fingers that someone hires you.” I laid out my carefully thought out game plan.

            “That’s great and all,” she started, “except for the whole resume part.”

            I stared at her. “You mean you don’t even have a resume?” I asked in disbelief.

            She shook her head. “Nope, never thought I’d need a ‘real job’,” she air quoted the words real job.

            “Great,” I muttered. “Another obstacle. Whatever,” I waved it off. “You’ll just have to try and look extra sexy.”

            “How’s this?” She shook out her hair, unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse and winked.

            I felt my heart rate speeding up, not expecting it, and stammered, “Yeah uh, yeah that should uh, do.”

            She laughed then pushed herself out of her chair. “Then I guess I’m ready. Let’s go, cowboy,” she said as she walked to the front door.

            “Yeah, right,” I tried to recover from my flounder, and followed her out the door.

***

            Maya and I had spent most of the day travelling around the city, unsuccessfully claiming a job when we stumbled upon a little cafe neither of us had heard of before. We decided to stop there for a late lunch; both of us hadn’t ate a thing since early in the morning. We walked in the door to the sound of a bell chiming, and were greeted by a middle-aged looking man.

            “Good afternoon, folks! How can I help you?” He asked with a friendly smile.

            Maya didn’t miss a beat. “Could I have a venti sugar-free, extra-whip, extra-shot, extra-hot, skim caramel macchiato, and a roast chicken panini please?”

            I stared at her incredulously and gave her a light slap on the shoulder at how obnoxious she sounded.

            “What?” she whispered, uncaring.

            “Ha ha, a girl who knows what she wants – I like it,” the man chuckled. “And for you, sir?”

            “I’ll just have a small black coffee and a ham and cheese sandwich.” I tried to make my order as simple as possible to make up for Maya’s.

            “Sure thing, it’ll just be a minute,” he smiled and turned around to get started on Maya’s extremely complicated coffee.

            Maya and I found a small round table, and sat down to wait.

            “Seriously, Maya? Your coffee order?” I said disapprovingly.

            She shrugged. “I like what I like.”

            And that was it.

            “Your order’s ready!” The man called out.

            We approached the counter and was grabbing our food from the kind man when he asked, “So what brings you two here today?”

            “Oh, we were just job hunting and needed a break,” I explained.

            “Job hunting, eh?” He mused. “Both of you?”

            I shook my head. “Nah, just her,” to which Maya smiled and said “Hi!” with a little wave.

            The man looked thoughtful. “That’s interesting, ‘cause I just recently lost one of my main employees.”

             I raised my eyebrows and turned to Maya, giving her a hopeful smile.

            “Would you be willing to interview me?” Maya asked with her own hopeful smile.

            “I’ll do you one better. It seems you’ve got a particular taste for coffee, and I’d like to give you a shot. No interview. You want the job?” He questioned.

            “Yeah, yeah that would be great!” She smiled. “Thank you so much.” Maya shook hands with the man, and I felt a weight off my shoulder. Now that Maya had a job, I’d be one step closer to having my apartment back to myself.

***

            Back at the apartment that evening, I was lounging on the couch, and Maya was working at her easel – a foldable one she had brought with her from her old apartment.

            As she mixed colours and softly stroked the canvas, I couldn’t help but watch her. The way she did everything was mesmerizing. Then her voice broke my trance.

            “Now that I’m working at a little coffee shop, I guess you can call me Rachel Greene,” she mused, with a small laugh. “Except of course I’m not rich – not even close,” she snorted.

            “You like Friends?” I asked, sitting up.

            She scoffed. “Of course I like Friends. Well, the show, not like people really, ‘cause a lot of people suck,” she stated.

            I smiled in amusement. “Do you think I suck?”

            “Hm...” she tapped her chin and looked as if she was mulling it over. “Not completely, I guess. You _are_ letting me stay here,” she decided.

            “Cool,” I replied, satisfied with her answer. Then my eyes drew back to her painting. I hadn’t noticed, but just in that small amount of time, she had made a lot of progress. It was hard to tell exactly what she was painting, but the mix of colours were absolutely beautiful; a lot of yellows and oranges and reds, like fire.

            Without thinking, I blurted out, “Why do you paint?”

            She froze, and then put her brush down and turned to me. She looked down for a minute before saying, “I don’t really know. It just feels right. I guess I was never very good at saying what I felt, but art makes it easy. The paint is my words, and the canvas is the best listener in the world.” She suddenly came out of her reverie. “God, that must sound stupid.”

            “Not in the slightest,” I said quietly, and we stared at each other. Breaking the stare she said, “I think I’m going to take a shower, and then hit the hay.”

            “Yeah, I think I’ll just go to bed too.” I stood up from the couch.

            I sat in my bed reading and thinking about what Maya said. I felt like she was keeping her guard up, like she didn’t think the real her was any good. It made me sad, and I resolved that I would try to break her out of her shell. I heard the shower turn off, and shortly after, Maya came out of the bathroom, just a towel wrapped around her.

            I gulped and tried to close my mouth. She saw me gaping, and cheeks turned red.

            Flustered she said, “I just forgot my pajamas.”

            Clearly unable to control myself that night, I once again spoke without thinking. “Do you want to sleep in my bed? With me?”

            She looked taken aback, and clutched the towel closer to her. “Uh...why?” This time she was the one stammering.

            I mentally face palmed, and hurriedly came up with an explanation. “Well, it’s just that the couch can’t be that comfortable, and I have a queen sized bed so...I mean, there should be plenty of space if you want to sleep in a real bed.” I felt my heart pounding in my chest, hoping she didn’t think I was an idiot, and hoping above all that she’d say yes.

            She looked away saying “um,” then turned back and said, “Sure, thanks,” and quickly padded out the room.

            My heart swelled and I tried holding back my grin. A couple minutes later she was creeping into my room, and hesitantly slipping into the other side of the bed, as close to the edge as possible it seemed. I didn’t care though; I could still feel her body heat radiating under the blankets, and spread through me, warming me.

            “Night,” she whispered.

            “Goodnight,” I whispered back.


End file.
